The Drowned Village, page 8
She picked up a book to read for an hour. No need to get up just yet – there was plenty of time to have breakfast before meeting Tom for the planned climb up Bracken Fell. This early in the morning the air was a little cooler and it was pleasant to lie in her sleeping bag reading.
When the phone rang again her stomach lurched. No, please, not Stuart. She looked at the display and discovered with relief that it was Stella. The relief was quickly replaced by worry – why was Gran phoning so early in the morning? What had happened? Or was it Gran’s carer, phoning with bad news? She answered quickly, her palms sweating.
‘Gran? Are you all right?’
‘Laura, dear. Yes, I am all right. Is it too early? I had trouble sleeping.’
‘Oh dear. So did I.’ Laura fleetingly debated telling Gran that Stuart had called but immediately dismissed the idea. No point worrying her. ‘It’s just so hot, isn’t it? Is that what kept you awake?’
‘What dear? The heat? Oh no. It was my silly old head, going round and round, thinking about the old tea caddy and whether it would still be there after all these years, and whether . . . oh, I don’t know. Whether you’d be able to find it, after all this time.’
Laura felt a pang of worry. Stella was rambling again. Perhaps she should never have gone away and left her – not if she was beginning to show signs of dementia. ‘Gran, what are you talking about?’ she said gently.
‘Oh, my dear. You probably think I’m making no sense. There was a tin box – an old tea caddy – in our house in Brackendale Green. Pa wanted me to fetch it, but I couldn’t. He wanted it so much, but I couldn’t get to it.’
‘Why couldn’t he get it himself?’
‘He . . . he wasn’t able to come back. He was . . . well. He was somewhere else. He’d asked me to fetch it for him. But the water was . . . there was water everywhere.’
Laura frowned, trying to make sense of what her grandmother was saying. ‘Are you talking about after the village was flooded? You came back for something?’
‘Yes, that’s right. It was because of Jessie. That’s why I had to go back.’
‘Who’s Jessie?’
There was silence on the other end.
‘Gran? Who’s Jessie – you said you had to go back because of her?’
Stella sighed. ‘Dear, sweet little Jessie. My sister.’
‘I never knew you had a sister?’
‘No, dear. I have never spoken about her. It was all so long ago.’
‘Gran, what happened to her?’
‘She was only just three. It was in the last few months before we had to leave the village. Ma was dead, and I know Pa had been struggling to look after us both. Jessie was a lively little thing, you see, a bit of a handful, and for a man on his own looking after two children . . . well, I’m sure whatever happened he never meant it to.’
What was Gran trying to tell her? Laura wished she was with Stella now, holding her hand, coaxing the story out of her. It was so much harder by phone. ‘What happened?’ she asked again gently.
‘She . . . she died. I saw her for the last time in the morning, before school. I dressed her that day, in her favourite pink frock that was too small for her but she did like to wear it. And a cardigan that Ma had knitted for her when she was sick. Poor Ma, lying there on her deathbed, determined to finish off that cardigan so that her little daughter would have something new to wear. And she managed it. All but the buttons, which I sewed on for her. But anyway. Jessie was wearing the pink dress and the cardigan, and I had tied her hair with a ribbon bow on top. I can picture her now, so clearly, after all these years. Must be eighty years ago now, or more, and she’s fresh as a daisy in my mind. Oh, dear me.’
‘That was the last time you saw her?’ Laura prompted.
‘Yes. I dressed her, and we had breakfast, and then I went off to school. The schoolhouse was down the valley, at Beresford, below where they built the dam, and the children went there from both villages and from farms all around. It was a two-mile walk from Brackendale Green. Tough going in winter if it snowed, I can tell you.’ Stella took a deep breath before continuing. ‘When I got home that afternoon, Jessie was . . . she was gone. My poor little sister! Hardly more than a baby she was. Such a lovely child when she was behaving. You know, I can still hear her giggle clear as anything, as though she was right here in the room with me.’
Laura asked gently, ‘Gran, how did she die?’
‘Oh Laura, love. It must have been an accident. They said it was murder but he wouldn’t . . . he could never have . . . and they never found . . .’ Gran’s voice trailed away beneath shuddering sobs.
‘Gran, please, don’t upset yourself. I shouldn’t have asked. We can talk about it when I’m back home, if you want to.’ Laura was cursing herself, wishing she was there to wrap her arms around her grandmother and comfort her.
‘No, no. I must tell you now, while you’re there.’ Stella took a deep steadying breath. ‘You might be able to find it.’
‘Find what?’
‘The tin. I couldn’t reach it. But now, well maybe, if it’s still there . . . Of course, it might not be. I never knew why Pa didn’t just . . . but he asked me to fetch it, and I tried. Oh Laura, I tried so hard to get to it but I couldn’t. And then . . . it was all my fault, you see? All my fault, what happened after that.’
‘What’s in the tin?’
Another silence, and sounds of eye-wiping and nose-blowing. When Stella spoke again her voice was very quiet, barely above a whisper. ‘I don’t know, love. I just know it was important, and Pa wanted me to fetch it.’ She was quiet again for a moment. ‘I failed him. It was all my fault.’
At that moment Laura’s phone bleeped, warning her its battery was critically low.
‘Gran, my phone’s almost out of charge. It’ll cut me off any moment. But what do you think was your fault, Gran?’
‘All of it, all of it.’
‘So, this tin – of course I will look for it, but where do you think it is?’
‘In the –’
Stella was cut off. Laura stared at her phone. Its screen was black, dead, completely out of charge. She tried to make sense of all that Stella had said. What had happened to her little sister? What was this tea caddy she kept talking about, and what was in it? Why was it so important? Well, she would have to wait now until she could speak to Gran again.
Chapter 8
JED
Jed stared after the overseer as he walked away with the bundle of jewels in his hand. Then he turned to look at Susie Atkins. ‘Are you sure, Susie, love? What you said about seeing my pa drop that bundle in the grave?’
She nodded solemnly.
‘It was a long time ago. How can you remember it?’
‘I were there, I seen it, I seen it all,’ she said stubbornly, and pushed out her lower lip.
‘Jed, please. She’ll have a tantrum. Can we not just leave it at that?’ Janie Earnshaw said, as she took her sister’s hand. ‘Susie, remember what Maggie said about making a cake, as soon as we’ve finished seeing Ma reburied?’
Susie grinned and nodded. Jed realised it was not the right time to ask any more questions. He picked up Jessie, sitting her on his hip, took his leave of the women and went on his way, his mind churning. If Susie had seen Isaac drop the bundle of jewels into the grave then presumably Isaac knew what was inside it. Which meant, assuming the jewels were stolen, that he must be involved in some way. But why hide them in a grave that was then filled in? It made no sense. Jed would have to ask him about it. And judging by what Mr Banks the overseer had said, he should ask him before the police followed it up. One more thing to worry about, as if there wasn’t enough on his plate already.
Jed called at the village shop, buying milk, bread and a pound of beef mince for their dinner from Mrs Perkins. There were some homemade pies on the counter, and he bought one of those as well, for Isaac’s dinner. This left him with very few coins in his pocket, but Sam Wrightson owed him a few bob, and John Teesdale had mentioned needing him to fix his boiler, so there was work lined up and money coming in, for the moment. They were surviving, and as long as he could find ways of keeping Jessie out of trouble while he worked, his little family would be all right for now. Who knew what would happen in the longer term. He could not think more than a few days ahead. But what of Isaac? What would become of him?
‘Come on, Jessie, lass, let’s go and visit your grandpa, shall we?’
‘Grandpa, Grandpa!’ the little girl squealed, as she instantly began running up the lane towards Isaac’s house.
Jed laughed. ‘Wait for me! I’ve all this shopping to carry!’ He ran after her, and scooped her up under one arm. It wouldn’t do to let her walk. She had a habit of darting off into people’s front rooms or backyards; if he didn’t watch her he was in danger of losing sight of her. Once he’d spent a whole afternoon searching the village for her, only to finally discover her curled up asleep under a table in Sam Wrightson’s kitchen. No one locked their doors in this village.
He set her down on Isaac’s doorstep, and let her open the door herself. ‘Grandpa!’ she squealed again, as she ran inside. Isaac was in his rocking chair beside his stove, and Jed was worried to see that he looked grey and ill. Was it really a good time to ask him about the jewels found in Martha Atkins’ grave? A sudden thought came to him. When he’d spoken to Isaac about Ma’s exhumation, Isaac had seemed agitated about the idea of digging up the graves. Was it because he was frightened of what might be found? Was it possible Susie was right, and Pa did know something about the jewels?
‘Hello, little monkey,’ Isaac said, grinning toothlessly at his granddaughter. ‘Climb up for a cuddle, will you?’ He reached down and helped Jessie clamber onto his lap. She immediately wrapped her arms about his neck and began plastering his grizzled old face with kisses.
‘Pa, I brought you a pie from Mrs Perkins for your dinner. You can heat it up later. I’ll make a cuppa now, shall I?’
‘Aye, lad. I’d like a cuppa. Been sitting here a long time.’
Jed filled the kettle and put it on the stove top. ‘Not good for you to sit still so long, Pa. You should get up and move around a bit more.’
Isaac shook his head. ‘It’s getting hard to move around, lad. My old knees. And hips. Stiff as old leather, I am. All I can do to get myself in and out of bed each day.’
Jed put a spoonful of tea in the pot. He knew it wouldn’t be long now till Isaac needed to move in with him and the girls. One more responsibility to fall on his shoulders, but not one he would shirk. Family was family. You did what you had to, however hard it was. However much it wore you down and left you feeling exhausted and despairing. He pottered about, preparing the tea, listening to Jessie chatter nonsense to her grandpa, and wondering how to bring up the subject of the jewels found in the grave.
‘Pa? They were digging up old Martha Atkins today, to rebury her in Glydesdale along with Ma and the others.’
‘Martha Atkins, eh? I remember her. Died of pneumonia. Her poor little lass Susie left all alone but Janie did a good job mothering her all these years.’
‘Did you dig Martha’s grave? Can you remember?’
Isaac looked at him sharply. ‘Might have done. Can’t recall all the graves I dug. Why do you ask?’
This was the moment. Jed lifted Jessie off Isaac’s knee and sat her in a corner with a biscuit to keep her quiet. He turned back to his father. ‘They found something in Martha’s grave. A tin, wrapped in oilcloth. And inside . . .’ He watched Isaac carefully, looking for a reaction, but none came. Susie, surely, was mistaken then.
‘Inside?’ prompted Isaac, raising his watery eyes to Jed’s.
‘Inside was some jewellery. Diamonds, rubies, all sorts. Good stuff. Buried along with Martha.’
Isaac had become very still, staring down at his lap. ‘Jewels, you say?’
‘Pa, as you were the gravedigger around the time when Martha died, they’re going to come and ask you about it,’ Jed said gently.
‘Who’s asking me?’
‘The police, Pa. They think whoever dug the grave must have put the jewels in it.’
‘I didn’t dig all the graves. I don’t know nothing about any jewels,’ Isaac said, pinching his lips together and shaking his head. Just the way Jessie did when she was denying some misdemeanour, Jed thought.
‘They’re going to ask you about it anyway,’ Jed replied. ‘Make sure you have your story straight.’
‘It were Fred Thomas,’ Isaac suddenly blurted out, making Jessie look up at him, her eyes wide. ‘He were the one that took them, not me. It were nowt to do with me. He were going to go back and dig them up, once the police had searched his lodgings and left him alone.’
‘Frederick Thomas?’ Jed knew the name. Mr Thomas ran a plant nursery in Penrith. He was a wealthy and successful man who had been a friend of Isaac’s when they were young. Jed had often heard his father mention him.
‘Aye. It were him, and I had nowt to do with it.’
‘Grandpa, more biscuit!’ Jessie ran across from the corner where Jed had put her, and clambered back onto Isaac’s lap. The old man instinctively put his arms around her but his eyes remained fixed on something in the middle distance, or perhaps in the past. Jed shook his head sadly, as he got up to finish making the tea. It was clear that Isaac did have something to do with the burying of the jewels, and quite possibly their theft, too. Well, Jed would have to get the truth out of him, and then work out how to keep it away from the authorities. Isaac was too old and frail to handle being interrogated by the police.
‘Help me use the privy, would you, lad?’
Jed looked in surprise at his father. This was a new development. Isaac had never asked him this before. The old man’s eyes were sad, pleading, and there was a touch of embarrassment in them. ‘Of course, Pa. Come on, off you get, Jessie. Grandpa needs to get up.’
‘No! Want to stay with Grandpa!’ Jessie clasped her little arms around Isaac’s neck and he had to pry her off, despite the screams of protest. ‘Now then, behave, or I won’t bring you to see Grandpa,’ he admonished.
He helped Isaac stand on shaky legs, fetching a stick for him. It was too late, he realised, noticing the dark stain spreading across the front of his trousers. ‘Come on, Pa. I’ll get you cleaned up and in some fresh trousers.’
Isaac shook his head. ‘There’s none that’s clean,’ he said quietly.
‘I’ll wash some, then.’ Jed led his father out the back door of the cottage and across the yard to the outside privy, and helped him get seated. While he did his business Jed searched for something to dress him in, and found only an old pair of underpants. They would have to do. Isaac could put a rug over his knees. Or . . . and with a sigh Jed knew there was only really one option – it was finally time for Isaac to move in with him. Another worry, another responsibility. Maybe it’d be easier all round if he did. He hoped so. There wasn’t much more he could cope with.
He helped the old man into the clean underpants and led him back inside, to sit down again on the chair he’d quickly wiped clean. Jessie had amused herself in the meantime by wrapping herself in a blanket and rolling around the kitchen floor, pretending to be a caterpillar. ‘Pa, I’ll take your washing back home and get it done with mine. I’ll bring you a pair of my trousers, and then, Pa . . .’
Isaac looked up at him with watery eyes.
‘Then, Pa, I’ll help you up the road to my house. It’s time you moved in with me and the girls.’
‘Ah, no, lad. I’ll not be doing that. I’ll be too much a burden on you. You’ve enough to do since your Edie died.’
‘Pa, it’ll be easier for me having you in the house, rather than up the other end of the village. I can make sure you get your meals, get you to the privy on time. Besides,’ he said quickly, as his father shook his head stubbornly, ‘you’ll be able to help look after Jessie. She’s a bit of a handful when I’m working. If you’re there, you can watch her. She’s better behaved around you. You’ll be a real help.’
‘Aye, it’d be good to spend more time with the little one,’ Isaac said thoughtfully. ‘Well, if you’re sure, lad. I admit I need a bit more help these days. My old knees aren’t what they were.’
‘I’ll make you a bed in our front room. You won’t need to go climbing our stairs. I’ll leave Jessie here while I fetch those trousers, then.’
Outside, Jed sighed heavily. It did make sense to have Isaac move in, but he could see that life was going to become yet more difficult. If only Edie hadn’t died when she did. He needed her. They all needed her. But now, they only had him – Jessie, Stella and Isaac, all dependent on him, to earn enough to live on, to cook, clean and care for them. Soon they’d be homeless. And before that, he realised with a jolt, Isaac might be accused and perhaps convicted of a long-ago robbery.
It was a tough job getting Isaac from his cottage at one end of the village to Jed’s, at the other end. Isaac used two sticks, and Jed carried his chair – which they needed, anyway. Although the distance was only a couple of hundred yards, Isaac had to sit and rest several times. ‘’Tis the longest I’ve walked in a while, lad,’ he said, with an apologetic look.
‘No matter, we can take all day if we have to. And once you’re with me, the furthest you’ll need to walk is to the privy. Unless you fancied a pint in the Lost Sheep of an evening, of course.’ Jed winked at his father. It had been a long while since Isaac had been able to enjoy a drink in the pub, but now perhaps he would, occasionally. ‘Jessie, pet, come here and walk beside your grandpa.’ The child was scampering back and forth like a puppy, poking around in puddles, finding things to pick up and put in her mouth, banging on doors and giggling as she ran.
Halfway along the lane, Isaac stopped again.
‘Need more rest, Pa?’
‘No. It’s just something I’ve recalled. Something in my home I can’t leave there. We have to go back.’ Isaac tried to turn, but Jed held his arm.
‘Pa, it’s all right. I’ll fetch your things later, and bring them to my cottage. I’ll bring everything you need, and if there’s anything I miss you can tell me and I’ll go back and fetch it.’
